for heaven's sake.

…& I move in slow motion.
watching the sky fall & trees disappear inside themselves.
wait, I am trembling. this is taking some recollection.
it’s much like familiarizing yourself with a bicycle or
roller skates after years of just trusting your stride.
ok, there they are. all in a pretty row, just where I left
them, just like a firing squad.
people stare. they stare at me. I swear it’s like they know me, but they don’t know me. every single movement that is captured in my peripheral vision somehow oddly resembles a girl waving her arms with them raised above her head. or maybe not a girl, just a whole crowd of people waving their arms above their heads, just to my right & left, just inside my line of sight.
wait, there’s a static hum pulling me out of here &
into the rest of the room. I deduce like a computer.
that’s the record player. vinyl scratch & hiss. I need
to turn the record over. stand & do so.
but, in front of me. it’s clear. the clouds have soaked into the rivers & lawns. buildings all fell down. trees disappeared into themselves, like I said. & there is a door
& a shadow, standing above the line where everything started & only went up. we called it the horizon. some strange fixed point in our world where everything that had a beginning, began.
wait, I’m steering this wrong.
no, I like it.
the metaphor has simply crescendo’d a bit
& they’ll go there…if not, I will, so do it.
do it still.
hey, you’re wasting time.
that door leads to another door, which leads to another door. doors I will open for the rest of my life. that shadow stands outside every door. looks at me, watches me, knows me, goes through with me. that shadow is you. & that makes me extremely vulnerable. extremely naked. extremely at risk. extremely fulfilled. extremely where I want to be. & I’ll keep opening doors. seeing you on the other side of each. wondering if i always will but knowing that certainly, of course I will. end slow motion.
& the metaphor ends.
you always do that.
it works for me, works for them, it’s how I am.
honest.
it has to be real. everything.
or even I won’t believe it.
& I always end up believing it.
funny how you look so different than me.
interesting, mathematical, genius.
it’s the reason I don’t ask questions & the reason all
those people waving their arms over there will
never get my attention or understand why not?